


I've been Waiting for All of My Life

by RengeAkai



Series: How They Met & What Makes It Last [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, F/F, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, M/M, Playboy Katsuki Yuuri, Role Reversal, Vicchan Lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-27 15:34:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12084018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RengeAkai/pseuds/RengeAkai
Summary: Katsuki Yūri, Japan's Living Treasure, had just won his fifth consecutive gold medal at the Grand Prix Finals, not even counting his medals from his nationals,SEA Games, Worlds, and the Winter Olympics, he was-without a doubt-Figure Skating's most decorated skater and eligible bachelor (again).Viktor Nikiforov, Russia's Rising Legend, had once upon a time, been the Skater to watch out for until he flunked on his first Grand Prix Final and subsequently tanked the Russian Nationals. Bringing shame not only to his country but to himself (again).Or alternatively; The Sun and its warmth was a rare sight in Russia, it was cold all year-round unless a miracle occured. Katsuki Yuuri's arrival in St. Petersburg, Russia to coach one Viktor Nikiforov is one of those miracle. With the promise of gold in the Grand Prix Final, Viktor Nikiforov aims to show the world that his time was not over yet.





	I've been Waiting for All of My Life

**Author's Note:**

> This is my own version of the Role Reversal AU, where Katsuki Yūri at 27 has his shit together and still as lost as canon!Yūri and losing less to his anxiety, and stumbles into Viktor Nikiforov, who is 23, still figuring out who he is and more open and vulnerable than canon! Viktor and just as in love/ taken with Yuuri.
> 
> An exploration on how things stay and change at the same time in a universe where Katsuki Yūri is the Champion and Viktor Nikiforov is the struggling skater.

Viktor Nikiforov is used to waking up to an empty apartment provided by the Skating Federation, with Makkachin as his only company. His mornings were silent and lonely, protein bars and pre-packed food that didn’t go against his diet, he had been so used to this life of solitude at home that the sound of banging pans and clattering utensils coming from the kitchen still surprised him, that his brain would panic for a few silent moments before he remembered that his walls were no longer bare and the paint on his ceiling was no longer a dull white.

And every morning, he would get out his room, eyes wary and hesitant, as he silently walked towards the open kitchen and peered in. Standing in front of the stove was Yūri, with Makkachin and Vicchan beside him, who would always greet him with a soft smile and a pleasant morning.

Yūri with still messy hair and blue rimmed glasses, who wore a pink frilly apron gifted to him by Phichit, would always be there.

And Viktor’s heart would settle down and he’d greet Yūri with a bright smile and start helping with breakfast.

This was their routine every morning, ever since Yūri had arrived to Russia bringing the sun with him.

 

Viktor didn’t know what he did to have Japan’s Living Treasure come to him but he would do his best to make Yūri stay by his side.

 

 

“Vitya, are you done preparing?” Yūri asked him with a gently smile and welcoming voice that Viktor treasured with his everything.

 

“Da! Yūri!” Viktor replied as he returned Yūri’s smile and trotted up towards Yūri’s side.

 

“Ok, then let’s start your morning run to the rink!” Yūri said, smile still present and even more angelic, and started pedaling towards their practice rink.

 

“Yes, Yūri!” Viktor replied with his frozen smile as he remembered how much of a stamina monster Yūri was and a task master.

 

 

Running behind Yūri’s blue rented bicycle, Viktor could only motivate himself by staring at his coach’s excellent posterior even if it was clad in jersey pants and covered by a thick brown coat. Viktor was good with his imagination after all.

The sight of Yūri’s back against the sun was reminiscent of his back when the podium lights shone upon him. Viktor, thought of how familiar the sight was to him, he had always been just a few meters close to Yūri, missing his chances to share the podium with him. He thought of the times, he had been so close to share the ice with Yūri, the times he had spent watching Yūri’s programs, copying it again and again with Georgi until both of them could do it with making any mistakes.

The difference between then and now, was that Yūri finally knew him.

 

 

“ヴィクトルがんば!!!” Yūri cheered him on and Viktor found the energy to push on, to keep on going until he had finally caught up to Yūri.

 

“That’s great Vitya! You were 5 seconds faster than last time!” Yūri announced loudly as they reached the doors of the rink.

 

 

And yeah, it was, a very vague statement that could be taken as an innuendo on his bed skills but Viktor was of the firm belief that Katsuki Yūri, 5 time Worlds Champion, 5 Time Consecutive Grand Prix Finals Champion, 2014 Winter Olympics Champion, 4CC Reigning Champion, as well as his numerous National gold medals and SEA Games gold medals in his Juniors and Seniors era, was in fact not capable of being so petty as to allude that someone was lacking in their sex life. He’d outright tell them that, as evidence by the Twitter Clapback circa 2014.

So really Viktor didn’t take that to heart, and let the snickering of his fellow rinkmates roll off him (but also because Yūri was known for being protective of those who considered as his own and no one had the confidence to stand up against the Reigning Multi-Talented Emperor of Figure Skating), Viktor had Yūri’s approval to seek.

Unlike the Ice Castle Hasetsu with its wide windows a top and simplistic elegance, the Yubileyny Sports Palace, had its imposing elegance that would make anyone unused to its structure feel uneasy. It was home to Yubileyny Sports Club, that Viktor used to be part of before Yūri became his coach. Now, the sports club had Yūri as its occasional consultant for the other skaters while Viktor was Yūri’s coach.

It was the trade off, in-exchange of Yūri using the rink with them, that and the fact that Yūri had a veritable group of servants in the form of the National Hockey Team. (As a True Katsuki Yūri #1 Fan and Official European Chapter Club President cum Sponsor, Viktor was also privy to the gossip over the American Chapter, who had shared among the Fan Club Presidents that rumors about the Detroit Hockey Team giving Yūri extra time on the ice, and free not-harming-his-diet food, was wholly true and verified by the American Chapter Club President)

So all in all, Yūri’s lessons were much sought after but his entire focus and priority was with Viktor, and everyone else was secondary (which was the stuff of Viktor’s dreams and self-insert fanfic), then there was the fact that Yūri who barely initiated contact with him, kept on touching him innocently on his arms, legs, adjusting his position until it was perfect.

Viktor knew he was touch-starved but it wasn’t until Yūri came did he realize how much it was. Yūri’s touches, as innocent as they were and fleeting as it was, still left Viktor warm, to the point that he had actively seek Yūri’s touches and clung to Yūri’s arms or waist every chance he could get. Yūri would always welcome his touch by holding his hand or resting his arms on the small of Viktor’s back when he would hug Yūri’s waist.

And Viktor’s heart soared at those innocent touches, those warm smiles and soft bemusement directed at him.

Viktor treasured this moments where Yūri was not the unreachable emperor on the jade throne. Here, on the ice, Yūri was Viktor’s coach and that was enough for him.

 

“Okay, Vitya, from the top once more and then we’ll take a break.” Yūri shouted from the rink side and Viktor nodded and skated back to his starting position.

 

And just like how Yūri thought him, he titled his head counter clockwise as the sound of the banjo began and threw his head just as it paused and smirked at Yūri before he skated backwards in time with the music beginning again.

Quick movements that belied a sensual dance of tango, of chasing and being chased, the elegance hidden in every flick of his wrist and movement of his hips as it crisscrossed across the ice, the force and the passion of the heated chase between the playboy and the most beautiful woman in town was in the jumps of his program and just like the love that ended abruptly, so did the program with Viktor hugging himself sharply.

 

Breathing hard, Viktor let his arms fall down and skated towards Yūri and Yura who looked as if he was sulking again. Viktor slowly stopped as he neared Yūri who handed him a water bottle before beginning his critique,

 

“Your jumps are flawless as always but your transition from the step sequence to the jumps is really horrible and stilted, a frozen water has more fluidity that your transition. And what was that you did in the start? You forgot the foreplay again. How could you just seduce someone abruptly? Just because the program ends abruptly doesn’t mean it had to start like it as well.”

 

From beside him Yura was letting out a pleased grin and Viktor pouted.

 

“Then you rolled your head back far too much, did you get a kink in your neck? And was that your most seductive look? It was barely seductive at all, it’s at the rank of Phichit’s hamster when they’re staring at the open latch.”

 

“Yūri~!” Viktor whined as he buried his face on Yūri’s chest. Feeling his coach exhale Viktor looked up and feared that Yūri must have gotten tired of him already.

 

“Have you even thought of the story at all?”

 

“Of course!” Viktor insisted.

 

“Then why can’t you still seduce me?” Yūri asked, seemingly sad that Viktor had yet to seduce him.

 

 

Viktor decided that he had to stop projecting to Yūri especially since Yura looked as if he was about to murder him.

 

 

“Yu-Yūri!”

 

“Well then, Take a break Vitya while I give pointers to Yura.” Yūri cheerfully ordered him as he pushed Viktor out of the rink and handed him his kyara-ben (it was a picture of

Yūri saying gamba) and Viktor found the resolve to get better. From the side, he could hear the distinct sound of Yūri’s blades and Yura’s muffled mutterings.

 

He listened to them while he slowly ate his packed lunch made by Yūri, (after posting it on IG and having various people condemn him for taking Yūri away), he wanted to have lunch with Yūri at the same time he was reluctant to destroy the kyara-ben Yūri so he was left eating the rice on the sides and taking small bites of the octopus sausages and omelet.

He thought of how everything began, the things that led to Yūri coming to St. Petersburg and coaching him.

* * *

 

 

‘ _From the moment I had seen him_

_It had been an endless chain of surprises...’_

 

 

 

“Katsuki Yūri had once again floored the competition with his free skate!” Yulia Pavlova commented as Yūri skated on the ice kissing his gold medal.

 

“This would be the fifth consecutive Grand Prix Final victory for Japan’s Living Treasure. Now at 27 years-old, Katsuki-san’s masterful performance, definitely laid speculations of his retirement this season. As for Viktor Nikiforov who entered his first Grand Prix Final, what do you think, Kozlov?” She asked her fellow commentator.

 

“Viktor Nikiforov didn’t seem to perform like his usual self today.” Kozlov replied with a regretful tone.

 

The crowd's deafening cheer could even be heard  in the hallways of the stadium. Tonight was the end of the 2015 Grand Prix Finals and Russia’s Rising Legend had failed his country horribly. In the shadows of the stands, Viktor Nikiforov, watched Katsuki Yūri’s exhibition skate, glowing under the lights of the rink, The Ice Emperor of Japan was truly untouchable on the ice. The lonely aria that people could only hope to accompany enveloped the stadium into bittersweet feeling and Viktor could only watch as Yūri reached out to the direction of his current lover.

 

“Vitya.” Yakov called out to him and Viktor could only look at teary eyed at his coach, his face scrunched up in a blatant display of withholding tears.

 

“Yakov…”

 

“You did your best.” And Viktor wept in the embrace of the person who had raised him as if he was his blood son.

 

Today, Russia’s Rising Legend could not even touch the heels of the Emperor that soared in the heavens. Viktor Nikiforov, despite his powerful name, had lost terribly in his first Grand Prix Final. He had planned to move Katsuki Yūri with his skating, make him acknowledge his skill, and then finally skate together with him but while his short program had done well and even ranked third, it all went down during his free skate. A look at Yūri’s eyes looking unimpressed broke him, the story fell apart, the magic gone and all that was left was a skater with passable step sequences and technical prowess which meant nothing in the face of Yūri’s brilliance at the emotional aspect.

 

He had soared high and fallen hard.

 

This, Viktor, knew was the final nail in the coffin before the Russian Skating Federation finally decided to pay attention to other more successful skaters.

 

He was Russia’s Rising Legend, a title that once made him proud because of his potential, and in the end that was all he was.

 

A potential that never bore fruit.

 

In the empty stalls of the men’s comfort room, Viktor scrolled through the news about his crash and burn in his free program, all of it was just as he had predicted.

 

 

“Viktor Nikiforov, Russia’s Rising Legend That Crashed And Burned.”

 

“The Rising Legend, Viktor Nikiforov, Retiring.”

 

 “The Rising Legend Places Sixth on his First Grand Prix Final.”

 

 

Viktor cried, again, in the stall as he tried to silence his cries. Muffling his mouth as his mind thought of his idol’s unimpressed look and subsequent leave from the rinkside.

He had done so much only to fail in the end. By the time he was done crying, his nose was red and he had mucus stuck inside his nose, after blowing his nose noisily on the soft tissue and wasting a lot of it. Viktor felt good enough to come out of his stall.

Only to find the Junior Gold Medalist,  Minami, looking at him fiercely. Viktor found himself embarrassed by being caught in the aftermath of his pity party.

* * *

 

 

“Ho-how can I help you?” He hesitantly asked.

 

“Next year is my senior debut!” Kenjirō announced as he step into Viktor’s personal space and pointed at his chest, “The only one that can stand by Yūri-sempai’s side is ME! So just retire if you can’t handle the pressure!”

 

“Eh?”

 

And just like that Kenjirō Minami left him dazed by the stalls.

 

 

 

He was still reeling from the parting words of Minami, and after his horrible interview with his stalwart supporter Reporter Yulia who had asked him to not retire yet. He was tired both physically and emotionally that when he had heard Yūri’s voice he instinctively turned around and stop in his tracks.

 

“Vicchan!”

 

And behind him was Katsuki Yūri cradling a toy poodle in his arms with Kenjirō Minami hanging around him and silver medalist Phichit Chulanont. He could only stare at them, the red divider a symbol of their gaping difference. It was an apt symbolism considering the events of tonight.

He could only stare, wishing that he could’ve not faltered tonight and then he would have been able to skate with Yūri on the same ice, and stand in the podium with him.

 

Then Katsuki Yūri looked at him and said, “A fan? Do you want a picture with me?”

 

Viktor turned away, his heart breaking further as Katsuki Yūri’s words were cemented in his mind. It was the last proof he needed to see that he was barely able to make a blip in Yūri’s radar unlike Yuri Plisetsky who even in his novice years was acknowledge by Yūri. He wasn’t recognized as a fellow skater but rather a fan who creepily stared at their idol.

 

Viktor left the venue with a heavy heart and decided to head back to the hotel with Yakov and Yura.

 

 

* * *

 

 

In Saint Petersburg, Viktor languished as he had failed on Russian Nationals for the first time in his life, and he had officially cut off ties with Yakov and currently taking a break this skating season. He was lost and his Makkachin was still at the hospital, he was for all intents and purposes alone.He had nothing to his name other than a bachelor’s degree in business and language. A degree he could barely put into use, with his whole country hating him for bringing them shame. The ice, hated him and he was nothing in Yūri’s eyes, and yet his feet were itching to dance once more in the ice, for one last time.

He was not in the right condition to skate considering his low weight but he still wanted to go back to where it had all began for him.

 

On the ice, where he had always been reaching out for Katsuki Yūri, who made figure skating an art form. He wanted to call out to Yūri’s lonely aria, he wanted to answer it even if it would go unheard.

 

“Hey Makkachin, what do you think should I do?”

 

Makkachin whined and did her best to comfort him, and Viktor found the resolve to brave the ice for one last time. He was tired of spending his days lurking on forums and quietly managing the fan site, and redirecting inquiries about his solemnness as the fan site moderator.

* * *

 

 

The wee hours of the rink was a welcome familiarity with Viktor before he had crashed and burned, the liminal space the empty rink gave him was a balm to his shame. It was just like his early years as Yakov’s student, always the first to arrive and the last to leave, playing around the rink copying Katsuki Yūri’s programs with Georgi. It was only fitting that Viktor would find the closure in his skating career here, copying Katsuki Yūri’s program one last time.

 

In the soft morning light that filtered in the large windows of the ice rink, Viktor Nikiforov, lost himself to the story that Stammi Vicino was telling. In his mind he could see every inch of Yūri’s moves, every emotion that ran across his face as he danced the lonely aria.

 

In a town with empty streets, a lonely man walks in the middle of a cold night, calling out for anyone who was just as lonely as him. Knocking on the doors and looking at the windows, everyone within had someone to hold in their arms, everyone inside the warm homes had company.

 

He knocks unto a door and hopes that someone would answer, reaching out to the vast unknown waiting for someone to hold him close.

 

If there was one thing Viktor knew, it was that he would never be able to do any of Yūri’s program without putting his heart on the line, that for all of his genius all of this failed in comparison with Katsuki Yūri’s artistry. He could have faked it, but fake emotions could only bring him so far and this was his end. But as the last lonely notes of the aria faded into his mind, Viktor knew that just this once, he was able to properly give this program the performance it deserved. Basking in the soft morning sun, Viktor regretted that he could not be the one to answer Yūri’s call for someone to dethrone him.

 

* * *

 

 

Katsuki Yūri was standing still on the barre, with his leg propped up on it. In his hand was his cellphone, where the video of Viktor Nikiforov performing his program played. The longer Yūri watched the bigger his smile got until his cheeks ached. The sound of rapid foot steps grew louder as it neared the door of the Ballet Studio, bursting from the door was a suprised Okukawa Minako-sensei, Yūri’s ballet instructor and co-coach.

 

Minako-sensei,With her hair in disarray and cheeks tinged with alcohol, blurted out,

 

“Yūri! Have you seen the video?”

 

Yūri only smiled beatifically and replied,

 

“Minako-sensei, I’m going to Russia.”

* * *

 

 

 

If there was anything rarely seen in Russia, it would be a sunny, warm day, and Viktor Nikiforov was angrily walking back to his apartment after a huge row with Georgi in the rink, that was seen by everyone in the Russian Team. It was embarrassing but nothing could surpass the embarrassment at having his performance of Yūri’s Stammi posted on the internet and shown to the person he had admired the most.

 

His rendition with the downgraded jumps and subpar step sequence was surely a joke to the 5 time Grand Prix Final Champion.

 

“Yūri’s probably laughing at me.” Viktor sniffed as he wiped his snot away.

 

Viktor just knew that he was the laughing stock of the figure skating community, and so he was already seriously contemplating running off to the Alps and starting a pasture with Makkachin and fading into obscurity in a remote village somewhere deep in the mountains. Chris can just do his best to find him in the Alps.

 

Opening the door to his flat in St. Petersburg, Viktor was greeted by a familiar brand of shoes, one which he knew Katsuki Yūri endorsed and for a brief moment he had entertained that Katsuki Yūri had come all the way from Japan to here. Of course that was before he remembered that the possibility of that happening was nil and even if it did, Katsuki Yūri was probably here to sue him for making a joke out of such a beautiful program.

 

Then a small poodle came into his view and Viktor shrieked, “MAKKACHIN! WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU!?!?!”

 

Then his actual Makkachin came bounding towards him and Viktor was even more confused with the two dogs that had successfully brought him down to the floor, and was currently licking his face. His mood rising up and heart lightening, Viktor happily gave the dogs all the belly rub they deserved until his brain caught up with him.

 

“Vi-vicchan?” He whispered softly, in a mixture of horror and fascination as the toy poodle let out a small bark and wagged its tail.

 

Scrambling to get up, Viktor ran inside his apartment and realized that there were sounds coming from the bathroom. With the dogs endless energy and Viktor’s momentary lapse of judgement, all three of them ran towards the bathroom door and was greeted by the sight of Katsuki Yūri, enjoying his claw feet bathtub.

 

Katsuki Yūri, who was a firm advocate of self-care, was currently soaking in (from Viktor’s extensive knowledge of Katsuki Yūri) Yu-topia Akatsuki’s own green tea bath bombs.

 

If someone had told Viktor that one day he’d see Katsuki Yūri’s six pack abs glistening in water and be treated to the full view of his dick inside his bathroom, Viktor would have laughed at their face and hypocritically call them desperate.

 

He had read millions of reader-insert fanfics about this scene, where Yūri in his full naked glory would welcome him home after a tired day, promptly followed by intense love making, but the thing is Viktor could separate reality from fiction.

 

“Are you real?!” Viktor shrieked.

 

In his mind, Viktor was already begging for forgiveness for disturbing Katsuki Yūri’s down time but he had to know if he had finally lost it.

 

And then, like the climax of a smutfic, Katsuki Yūri stood up, water dripping down from his collar bone to his navel and Viktor was left inwardly thanking god for the gift of seeing the Katsuki Dick (he would very much like it in him) and as if the world had faded away, leaving only him and the naked glistening Katsuki Yūri, who with his determined smirk and sharp eyed look, said, with great flourish,

 

“Vitya! Starting from today, I’m your coach!”

 

Yūri dropped his hand and then added, “And then I’ll make you win the Grand Prix Final!”

 

Here are three things the Katsuki Yūri Fanclub, which Viktor was an officer of, knew with absolute clarity;

 

  1. Katsuki Yūri On Ice version is very much the 21st century’s Adonis
  2. Katsuki Yūri’s Dick is without a doubt well-hung and a sizable girth
  3. Katsuki Yūri with his hip cocked to the side and smiling while at it was a deadly conversation.



 

Now, as a dedicated member and President of Katsuki Yūri’s Official Fanclub Russia Chapter, it was his duty to revised the current information of Katsuki Yūri’s extra abilities. It was that the combination of the three would lead to death and ascension to the next life.

 Viktor Nikiforov, 23,  the screamed before fainted in his marble tiled bathroom. His last thoughts were,

 

‘Thank you God for letting me see this living form of art in my final moments.’


End file.
